


Stepping Stones

by morrezela



Category: Supernatural RPF
Genre: Alternate Universe - Consorts, Alternate Universe - Vikings, M/M, Monks
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-11-29
Updated: 2016-11-29
Packaged: 2018-09-03 01:48:09
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,431
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8691724
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/morrezela/pseuds/morrezela
Summary: Jared finds that transitioning from monk to consort is not easy.





	

**Author's Note:**

> Disclaimer: This isn’t real. The people mentioned belong to themselves. I am receiving no remuneration from this.
> 
> Warnings: Monk despoiling and highly inaccurate portrayals of Vikings.
> 
> A/N: This was written for my alphabet fic meme for the letter “S.” The word picked was “submissive.”
> 
> This is a sequel to ‘Book Knowledge’ that is set after the first timestamp ‘Uncommon Confusion.’

To cause frustration to one’s leaders is a disruption best avoided if at all possible. One should not anger those in authority lest it cause them to act harshly upon the people. Leaders are under more stress than the simple people. Jared long ago learned this lesson and has spent many a night in solemn contemplation of how to best adhere to these principles.

As a young disciple, he had been troublesome to the elders. A thousand questions were always upon his lips. His mouth would oft run away from him, and his verbose tongue was only superseded by his boundless energy. Aging has taken away some of the excitableness of his youth, but it has not yet cured him of his tendency to cause irritation amongst figures of authority.

Excuses are not acceptable. This much Jared knows, so he does not try to justify himself – though he is sorely tempted. There are very strict rules about fornication, and Jensen’s frustrations with him all revolve around the fact that Jared will not let him between his thighs. It is vexing to the Viking that he not be allowed his release. Jared can understand this. He is not so old that he does not remember puberty even if his loins had not burned quite as bright as they could have.

Sympathy is on offer, but Jensen does not seem to care for being placated. He is constant in his attempts to get Jared to undo his robes for him and just as consistently disappointed that Jared refuses. It is as if the concept of being denied his wishes is completely foreign to him. There is the chance that it is. The fearsome Viking surely hasn’t met up with defeat very often.

Still, Jared is not completely defiant. He barely resists any of Jensen’s wishes at all. He has moved into the opulent house that Jensen claimed as his own. He has obediently followed Jensen around when required and chosen out new dishes and eating utensils and picked out the linens for Jensen’s enormous bed. It is only his refusal to share that bed that angers his new lord so. That and refusing to dress in the clothes that Jensen buys for him. The flattering cut of the vestments incite lust in his lordship’s eyes. It remains Jared’s duty to not lead others into sin.

While Jensen mopes and glowers because of his inability to spend himself upon Jared’s skin, the other Vikings are quite taken with Jared. This has nothing to do with them appreciating his gentle ways and pious virtues. It has everything to do with the way that some of the townsfolk keep trying to slit Jared’s throat. The Vikings aren’t used to a peaceful existence, yet most of the villagers have little ought with their invaders. The return of free trade and profit has made most of those who work for their livings happy.

Happy people tend not to start fights, and Jensen has explicitly forbidden his people from initiating any. His word is his people’s law, and they dare not defy him. But Jensen has also made it known that Jared is to be protected at all cost. When Jared goes into town to spread harmony and educate children, there is always a debate as to whose turn it is to play bodyguard. Most times Jensen has to be the one to decide before there is bloodshed over the matter.

The Vikings are decidedly undereducated in the ways of gentleness. Even their women and children wield bows and arrows and swords with disturbing accuracy. It will be a continuing challenge for Jared and his brethren to teach them better ways. Then again, Jared isn’t so certain that his brethren are interested in the effort at the moment.

Oh, a few of them are still doing good and keeping the faith, but Jared has seen others going about town in unbecoming ways. They’ve been caught conspiring to create uprisings against Jensen or found fornicating with the widows of the village instead of offering proper comforts. It is most disheartening to Jared to see such acts. He cannot condemn them, not with how he failed to contain himself around Jensen, but he can offer support to get them back on the right roads.

Or he would if they weren’t also part of the group of people trying to assassinate him. It is very difficult to offer words of wisdom and counsel to a man bent on severing one’s head from one’s body. Jensen has told him many times that the other monks were not following their beliefs, and Jared is sad to acknowledge that Jensen is correct in his assertions. The behaviors he has seen are not the actions of righteous men. 

Instead of focusing on the ill being done, Jared focuses on the good. There are still members of his order that are taking their duties seriously. They give him hope and bolster his fortitude for when he returns to Jensen’s house at night. They encourage him to hold strong to his refusal of copulation, and remind him that trials are good for the heart of man. Jensen is not going to die of sexual dissatisfaction even if he tries to imply otherwise.

“You’ve been in the village,” Jensen says as Jared seats himself at the dinner table. Jared inclines his head as an answer. Where else would he have been all day? There are gardeners for the grand courtyard that Jensen has appropriated, and there is only so long that Jared’s dogs need to be played with. He cannot have them become too used to his undivided attention. They are much too spoiled already.

A dissatisfied huff leaves Jensen’s lips, but Jared doesn’t question it. He knows what that sigh means as much as he knows that Jensen will answer him bluntly and crudely if he makes a civil inquiry about it.

“It looks like rain tomorrow,” Jensen comments after a moment or two of silence.

An arched eyebrow seems to be the best way to answer that. The skies had showed no such thing as the sun was setting.

“Best you stay home,” Jensen continues as if his eyes hadn’t seen the look of disbelief that Jared’s face expressed.

“If you wish,” Jared allows. The look of relief and hope that steals across Jensen’s face is almost too perfect to ruin with, “But I fail to see what the weather has to do with returning to the monastery,” yet Jared says it anyway.

Now there are thunderclouds on the horizon, and they are all hovering about Jensen’s head. He stabs at his meat viciously for a few moments before slamming his knife down on the table and taking a hefty draught of wine. Jared calmly sips at his own wine in response. It is only appropriate to show such manners when dealing with one’s lordship.

“You insist on torturing me,” Jensen accuses when he finishes off his goblet.

“I do no such thing,” Jared denies. It is a lie. He’ll do his prayers for it later.

Jensen grunts and pours himself more wine. He won’t get drunk from it. The table wine being served is weak even for the standards of the monastery. The Vikings’ grog is far more potent. The one time that Jared sampled it, Jensen had him half undressed before he got hold of his morals and pushed the amorous man away. The bruise that Jensen had sucked onto his neck had taken days to fade.

“Your mother wishes to know if you want raisins in your cake,” Jensen grunts after another period of silence.

Jared takes a bite of veal and chews slowly as he considers the question. He already knows the answer, but he can tell by the way that Jensen relayed the question that he hasn’t a clue what cake Jared’s mother is speaking about. The temptation to be just the tiniest bit defiant overpowers Jared.

“Yes,” Jared answers after he swallows.

“I’m sorry, ‘Yes,’ to what? I forget what question I asked. It happens when years go by,” Jensen snaps.

“Yes, I would like raisins in the cake,” Jared answers patiently. The play of muscles along Jensen’s jawline as he clenches his teeth is fascinating to watch. The way the small movement makes the light dance across his fair features steals the tiniest bit of breath from Jared’s chest. He is not immune to how attractive Jensen is.

“What cake?” Jensen asks.

“The cake that my mother asked about, of course.”

“DAMNIT JARED!” Jensen bellows.

Hiding a smile such as the one Jared possesses behind so thin a veil as a wine goblet is futile, but he tries it anyway.

“You mock me,” Jensen accuses, sullenness replacing his ire.

“I do no such thing. You are just cranky because you are not getting your way.”

“You deny me any pleasure at all,” Jensen continues to sulk. It is a ploy. Jared knows that if he tries to soothe Jensen’s wounded feelings that it will only lead to hand holding and then gentle touching and before he can gather his wits about him, Jensen will have Jared’s back on the dinner table and his tongue down Jared’s throat. It has happened at least three times since Jared moved to the house.

“True pleasure is not bound to physical things,” Jared intones wisely.

Jensen smiles at that. “And yet I am not asking for physical things. I am merely seeking knowledge that you deny me.”

Frowning at being caught out is not becoming of a monk, especially not one who has been baiting an already tired and ill-tempered man of importance. If Jared continues in his waspish antics, he’ll have to do penance for inciting Jensen to wrath. It is best if he quit such behaviors entirely. It is not befitting of a man of his oaths.

“Mother wishes to know if I want raisins in the wedding cake. I do,” Jared answers simply.

A pleased smile forms on Jensen’s lips, and Jared is distracted by the sight. He knows that he should not focus on how pleasing to the eye Jensen is, but his flesh is decidedly weak in that area. Jensen is very comely. Gazing on his form too long makes Jared’s manhood lengthen with want. It is the reason that he spends so much time in the village ministering each day. The less exposure he has to such temptation, the better. He fears that once he lets Jensen take his hand in marriage that he’ll not be able to drag himself from the bedchambers for weeks if not months.

“I knew not that your mother baked,” Jensen comments, far more lighthearted than he had been earlier.

“All mothers bake,” Jared informs him, “but Mother hates the baker’s cakes. She has insisted on making all of her children’s wedding cakes. I suppose that now I am included in that.”

“Yes. You are,” Jensen tells him firmly.

“Assuming that I say my vows,” Jared reminds him even as his face flushes with embarrassment.

As usual, Jensen looks entirely unconcerned with Jared’s threat. “You will say your vows.”

It is true. Even if Jared felt no desire at all, he would still say those vows. His people need him to capitulate to Jensen’s wishes. Uncomfortable as he is with how much sway he already has over Jensen’s good opinion, he knows that there are far worse men in the village who would kill to ingratiate themselves to their new lord. Worse, they would whore themselves to Jensen even though their bodies worked like most and coveted the female form.

“You will say your vows,” Jensen continues as if he can read Jared’s mind, “because you want in my bed as much as I want you in it.”

The fire from the candle is burning especially hot tonight. That is why Jared’s face feels aflame. He is certain of it.

“Ahhh, there is my sweet Jared,” Jensen purrs.

“This is not appropriate dinner conversation.” It isn’t appropriate conversation at all, but Jared is having troubles making his mouth work. As scandalous as Jensen’s words are, they’re more exciting than offending. It is very distracting.

“You know,” Jensen says thoughtfully, “I could be persuaded to show you what I’ve purchased for our wedding night. Adrienne has been most helpful in assisting me with more intimate gifts for you.”

“I care not how fine of feathers you stuffed the mattress with,” Jared chokes out. The words are true even if he is purposely avoiding Jensen’s meaning. He long ago gave up the taste he had for comfortable bedding. His desires have moved beyond the physical even if his manhood is trying to drag him backwards now that it has made Jensen’s acquaintance.

“I was thinking more about the oils and dressing gowns. I am assured that your new vestments will be particularly handsome on you, but I assume that they will be too… uncomfortable for wearing in bed,” Jensen finishes with a smirk.

“Piety and purity are words that are lost on you,” Jared mumbles as he takes another sip of his wine.

“Ahhh, Jared. I do not mean to torment you so, but you are very comely when you blush. So shy, almost a virgin still.” The pride in Jensen’s voice is unmistakable. He rejoices in how he has claimed Jared’s virginity for his own. It is not an unfamiliar sentiment for Jared to hear. There have been enough weddings for him to catch his share of hushed rejoicing over the purity of one’s wife.

It is always done away from the bride lest she hear the comments in her delicate ears. Jared has always thought it unfair that no such comments are made about the husband, or if there are, it is only that he has been ‘good.’ None save Jared and some his brethren hold in high esteem the purity of men. The thought makes his heart sore. Lamenting about fairness in a world so unfair is a pointless exercise, yet Jared cannot stop himself.

“I cannot say the same of you,” whispers out of his mouth as he rises from the table. He cannot bring himself to look at Jensen as he leaves. The irrational hurt he feels is no less intense for how foolish he knows it to be.

Jensen is a barbarian, a man raised with a different sense of right and wrong. Even if he had come from the stock of Jared’s homeland, he would not be held to a different standard – not where bedding another is concerned. It has only ever been Jared who thought that both men and women should be judged equally in such ways. Even though the elder monks agree with him, they warned that he was fighting a losing battle whenever he brought the subject up.

Then again, they also took every opportunity to keep Jared away from the young men of the village lest he discover his yearnings for physical satisfaction were in another vein then most men’s. He cannot prove that they did not discourage him from sharing the wisdom of abstinence to his age mates for fear that he would succumb to his own lusts. Jensen is a fine specimen of manhood, but he is not the only comely man in the area. It stands to reason that he is not the only man capable of inciting Jared’s body to rebel against him with want.

Jared’s thoughts trouble him for a long time. Not even the soothing repetition of his evening prayers bring their normal soothing balm of routine. He feels adrift in foreign feelings of jealousy and hurt. It matters not what the past has been. Jared believes in forgiveness, and he has not been betrayed by unfaithfulness. Jensen has kept his word about wedding him properly and not turning him into a whore. He has been true even though Jared half suspects that the brother who agreed to preside over the nuptials has either been bribed or threatened into it. It will take time to ease the barbarian out of Jensen and his men.

A soft knock announces the arrival of another. It has long since turned dark outside Jared’s window. The drips of wax pooling around the base of his candle tell that it is as late as the skies say it is, but he still rises to open his door. Turning away one in need is not something that Jared would do not matter how tired he may be.

That Jensen is on the other side of the door is a surprise. He is not apt to wait to be granted entrance to anything. A knock is just a formality to him. He is the conqueror. His word is law as evidenced by the men punished for speaking out about the ‘unnatural’ affections that he bestows upon Jared and encourages in others.

“My lord,” Jared says to the floor. His prayers may not have soothed him, but they have gotten his spirits back under control so that he has a proper reaction to his superiors. Eye contact can be threatening, and Jensen must be in a foul mood given how abrupt and discourteous Jared’s departure from the table had been.

“I… will you look at me at least?” Jensen sounds atypically unsure. Uncertainty is not in his nature.

Jared lets his eyes glance up from the smooth stone to flicker just below Jensen’s eyes. His gaze rests comfortably on the sight of Jensen’s cheekbone lest looking him in the eye be read as a sign of defiance or aggression.

“I have upset you,” Jensen starts off uneasily.

“No…”

“Lies are unbecoming of you!” Jensen barks sternly.

Jared bites his lip and nods. Semantics are not something that need be argued. Knowing that Jensen did not mean offense has not kept Jared from taking it.

“My apologies,” Jensen exhales a moment later. “I did not come to quarrel. I am attempting, that is to say that I have taken liberty with your… The blood of my kin is not in your veins, and you are… delicate.”

“Delicate is not a word I have heard often ascribed to me,” Jared observes neutrally. He has not one clue what Jensen is attempting to say nor what response is expected of him.

“Well it should be said often, with vigor… and song,” Jensen declares.

Shock is not easily suppressed, and the feeling causes, “With song?” to echo out of Jared’s mouth.

“Yes. You are most… delicate and refined. It should be said with song.”

Now Jared is only befuddled. The longer that Jensen stands before him, the more uncomfortable the man looks. “My lord,” he begins.

“Jensen,” Jensen corrects. “I would have you call me by name.”

Jared nods. “Jensen, I am neither delicate nor refined. I am merely a monk who aspires to impart knowledge and understanding to those in need.”

“But you are,” Jensen blusters with the sort of intensity only seen in the desperate. “You are… fair and comely and…”

Realization dawns on Jared. “Are you trying to flatter me?”

It is Jensen’s turn to flush, and Jared is caught between finding the look adorable and unhealthy. Despite being on the open seas for so long, Jensen’s skin remains pale like the men of the north whose stock he hails from. The shade of red it turns is not complimentary, but there is something charming in Jensen’s attempt to curry Jared’s favor that overshadows the unpleasant shade.

There is something amusing about it as well. Given how their relationship started, the very nature of Jensen’s demands on Jared, there is no need for flattery or apologies. Jensen is the conquering victor. Jared is the man of peace who knows his role.

“You do not need to speak niceties to me,” Jared says softly. “I am aware of your affection for my form, and I will be a good consort for your household.”

“And what if I wish to pay you compliments?” Jensen counters.

“I am not in need of them. There are more important things for you to be considering than…”

“What a man needs and what he desires are not so very different from each other as they appear. Happiness counts for a good deal more in life than many would have one think. It is this knowledge that led me to take my people out on the waters to find them a new home. Misery is not an existence worth knowing. I can survive on water and bread. I crave more than that.”

“You have more,” Jared points out.

“Yet still I crave,” Jensen says. “You may call this a sin, but I do not believe that wanting happiness in one’s household is a bad thing. I do not wish a spouse resigned to be with me though I will survive with it. Make no mistake, I’ll not be releasing you to the slime who have run your village for decades. You will become my husband, and I’ll suffer no other’s touch on your skin. But that is merely what I will settle for, not that for which I thirst.”

“I do not need your compliments to make me content with my life,” Jared tells him.

“But you want them. I am not a blind man, Jared. You are hurt by something, resentfulness perhaps of those who have come before you?” It is a guess, but Jared cannot keep his wince form betraying his inner turmoil over his own baseless jealousy.

Jensen nods once to himself. “There have been others,” he confirms, “men in ships and compatriots in battlefields. I would like to say to you that I did not love any of them, but that is not true. I loved, and I was betrayed by that love. When time came that he could no longer fight by my side, he stayed behind to teach the young men of the village while I went out to wage war. When I returned, he had a wife with child and no less than two male lovers on the side all while condemning those like us who would be with our own sex. Within a year, he became our leader. He punished those who would not slake his thirst for male flesh even though his mouth condemned them in morning light for their sins.”

“He came after you?” Jared asks.

“No. When he retired from the field of battle, I became the best warrior of my people. I am young and hearty – respected as no other. He wished for me to marry his niece. Provide children for her. He told me that if I became part of his household that we could rekindle our passions under his roof. Our wives would never be the smarter and our bonds would be unbreakable.”

“You told him that you would not do it,” Jared guesses the next part of the story, but Jensen laughs.

“Of course I didn’t tell him that! I still have my head on my shoulders, don’t I? No, I gave him what he deserved. I accepted the offer of engagement, and I took full advantage of the storehouses that he left open to me in preparation for my wedding feasts. I made plans and subverted his authority. On the morning of my wedding day, I sailed away with my ships and a good portion of his people. I don’t know if the letters I left behind were all burned before they were read, but I like to believe that enough were read to let the remaining villagers know him for who he is.”

“I’ll endeavor to remember not to cross you,” Jared mumbles, eyes wide with the knowledge of how devious Jensen is.

“You won’t. Why do you think I chose you? I wanted a man who had principles and who wouldn’t hide behind the skirts of a woman while starting at the ass of a man. I am not the sort of man who deserves a man like you, Jared. I know this. I just am no longer willing to make sacrifices for rightness. Not in this.”

The admission is something that Jared has surmised for himself, but he does not inform Jensen of that. It is Jared’s calling to save men not condemn them.

“I desire you, Jared. Deeply. And I’ll have you, but I am not heartless. The last time I was engaged, I paid my betrothed no compliments. Even though she did not love me, it hurt her. I do not wish for you to hurt. I like you. You are beautiful and kind,” Jensen tells him. His stare refuses to settle on Jared’s face as he speaks his compliments this time. That more than anything else convinces Jared that he means them.

“No man ‘deserves’ another. We are all filled with fault,” Jared says.

“Another lesson?” Jensen teases, disappointment filling his eyes even as his lips smile.

Epiphanies are supposed to happen about the divine, but Jared’s is not so inspiring. “You wish me to love you,” he blurts out.

“What? No! I’m not an imbecile who thinks that… I know how the heart works and this is not… Love does not grow in such places or such circumstances,” Jensen stutters.

Arguing about it will change nothing, so Jared holds his tongue. Instead he offers a compliment of his own, “You have very nice hair.” The words are awkward in his mouth in ways they have never been. A monk has no need to encourage vanity in others, but Jared is well aware that such things soothe over roughness in marriages.

Jensen laughs even as his fingers reach up to toy with Jared’s much shorter mane. “Not as nice as yours.”

Jared disagrees there, but he doesn’t wish to argue. Instead he takes a step backwards and forces Jensen’s hand to disentangle from his locks. The toying had been turning into petting, and Jared knows from experience exactly where Jensen will try to lead things if he lets the stroking continue.

“It is getting late,” he says before Jensen can protest, follow him into his room or do both.

“It is,” Jensen agrees.

“I’ll see you in the morning,” Jared says as he starts to close the door to his bedchambers.

Jensen grins and takes a long leer down Jared’s form. “That you will,” he says as he reaches out to pull the door shut before Jared can close it for himself. It is infuriating. What makes it doubly so is that it is Jensen’s grin that chases Jared into his dreams.


End file.
